A Terrible Start
by hearts-ablaze
Summary: I'm not sure if this letter is really for you, or if its for me – maybe it's a reminder of all the things I have to teach you, of all the things a good father needs to pass on to his son. But here I am, thinking that I wouldn't have the faintest clue what a good father would do. I'm in Brighton, and you're in London. I'm already off to a terrible start. [One-shot]


_Harry,_

_My boy. I am writing to you from Brighton. I wish I could properly comprehend the events of the evening, enough to explain to you _why_ I am indeed in Brighton, but it's 3am and I am by the docks, watching the ships roll in and all I can remember is that we were celebrating _you_; Sirius, Remus, Pete and I. You were brought into the world no more than 16 hours ago, and they have been the happiest 16 hours of my life, because the moment I saw you, I knew that if there was ever anyone I would love in the world as much as I love your mother, it was you. You will have to excuse my handwriting, son; it is entirely possible that during our celebration, I may have had a fair go at a very expensive bottle of firewhiskey. Don't tell your mother I told you that._

_Right now, you and the love of my life are at St Mungo's in London. And I am here, in Brighton – too drunk to apparate, but not too drunk to write to you. You will have to forgive me for writing this on a pub napkin, but it was my only option and I have a lot of things I want to tell you. I want to be with both of you, but if I was to arrive in this state, your mother would send me home to sleep it off, accompanied with a disapproving frown – don't worry, you'll be all too acquainted with that frown in a few years._

_I'm not sure if this letter is really for you, or if its for me – maybe it's a reminder of all the things I have to teach you, of all the things a good father needs to pass on to his son. But here I am, watching the ships roll in, thinking that I wouldn't have the faintest clue what a good father would do. I'm in Brighton, and you're in London. I'm already off to a terrible start._

_You're a scary little beast, mate. With your big green eyes and mop of dark hair, you've already stolen mine and everyone else's hearts, and made me terrified to lose you; until I realised that I'm a father now, I'm not allowed to frightened – I mustn't be scared, because one day you'll come to me, fearful and I will have to tell you 'Don't be frightened, Harry. I'm here. As long as I'm here, you have no reason to fear.' But how can I say that, if I myself get scared at the mere thought of your little dark haired head? See what I mean? I'm already an awful father._

_I'm sitting on the bloody beach in Brighton - and there is sand in my trousers but I really don't care, because my son was born yesterday, nothing could bother me now – I've never seen the ocean so dark, and it's eerie how quiet it is. Maybe because it's Brighton, and no one in their right mind would be out in Brighton at 3am on a Friday morning._

_I've always tried to be a good bloke, Harry. I've always tried to do the best by everyone; though your mother would probably disagree with that. My father expected a lot from me, it was a lot of pressure, but I guess I kind of respected him for it. I wish he could have met you, I wish he'd had the chance. Maybe he would have seen that I finally got something right in making you, huh mate?_

_I'd move the earth if I could, Harry – I'd move it for you if you wanted me to. I'd move the earth to have you near me now. All I want is to fall asleep with you in my arms, but I suppose that will have to wait until tomorrow (if your mother doesn't kill me before then, that is)._

_I'm still sitting on this damn beach, watching the ocean move, wishing I could show you everything. Wishing I could show you the room I grew up in, my dorm at school, the house that I used to call home, before your mother came along. Once I had her, I didn't need a home. She was my home._

_That was lame. You'll learn that soon, your old man is a sap when it comes to your mother. But who could blame me? She'd spent ten hours giving birth to you and she still looked like a bloody veela, even after she threw a vase full of flowers at me for trying to take a photo of her._

_There's a war on, Harry. You'll know all about it one day, we'll explain everything to you when you're old enough, we'll hide nothing from you about this, because we're about as deep in the situation as we could be. We're putting you in danger, and I hope you don't hate us for that. I couldn't walk away from this though, Harry. This war is about your mother's safety, any better man probably would have taken her and run, kept her and their family safe. I don't know why I didn't run, maybe I was angry, maybe I was too filled with pride to run – regardless, I made a reckless decision, and your mother joined me. Here we are. In the thick of a war, with you on our laps, and danger all around is. We'll get through it though, mark my words, son. Only, I just keep hoping you will be the man, I couldn't be._

_All I want to do is talk to you, face to face; only right now, it's late, I'm drunk, and I've got nothing more to say. I know you won't be able to read this for years, and maybe not even comprehend it for a few more years after that, but I felt the need to write it anyway. _

_Sleep soundly, Harry James Potter. I'll see you in the morning._

_James._


End file.
